


A Soundtrack for the Transitional Period

by PunkTart



Category: Captain America (Movies), Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Break Up, F/M, Fighting, Lots of sad life stuff, M/M, Making Out, No one but life is the bad guy, Sexual Content, Swearing, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-23
Updated: 2018-05-23
Packaged: 2019-05-10 11:31:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14736167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PunkTart/pseuds/PunkTart
Summary: Tony met someone and he's almost the perfect fit. They both love music, they both have dead parents, an interest in mechanics and nonchalant, witty personalities. In another world, Tony Stark and Peter Quill would have been the perfect couple, but in this world, Tony just broke up with Steve and frankly, they still love each other. No, they were the perfect compliments to each other and every part of their bodies loved the other so much. But, life is a bitch. Everyone always talks about the beginnings and durations of love stories, but this is not that. This is the forgotten transitional period in which Tony Stark struggles with choosing how to carry on with his life. This is the transitional period that everyone hates, but nonetheless exists.





	A Soundtrack for the Transitional Period

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do Ya by Electric Light Orchestra:   
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p1Y-rfbzmgY

“So.” The silence between them was eating away at their flesh. “Where are you gonna live?” 

Tony stood there, waiting for an answer, his skin itched for an answer and that itch quickly became anger. 

“Fine, don’t fucking tell me, just like you did wi-“

“Tony. Let’s be civil, please,” Steve grits out, his jaw clenched as tight as his grip on the box. 

“Wow.” He scoffed. "Well it’s a little hard to be civil when one of us isn’t even answering simple questions.” This caused Steve to turn coldly and continue packing. 

“I don’t have an answer yet Tony,” he retorted while pulling open a drawer, his teeth grit together. 

“That’s a perfectly fine answer right there!”

“Tony do you know what?” Steve threw down the pants he had in his hands and made sharp eye contact. There was tension binding his entire body. 

“Please.” Tony crossed his arms, feet rooted. “Enlighten me.”

A slow, hot breath slivers from Steve’s nose from a restricted sigh. 

“I thought, maybe, that today we could talk and figure things out. That maybe, you wouldn’t let your insecurities get in the way of-“ 

The word “insecurities” pricked at Tony’s chest with adrenaline, and his heart pumped furiously at the word, arming Tony’s defense mechanisms. 

“My insecurities! Right. Well I’m sorry I have so many insecurities. My trust issues get in the way don’t they? Well thank you for bringing up my undying fear of trusting people cause guess what Steve Rogers? You’re part of the problem!”

“Tony, I was only trying to protect you and you know that.”

“Steve you kept something away from me that had nothing to do with you in the first place!”

“I didn’t want you to get hurt!”

“Well it didn’t work did it?” 

“Tony I know your father-“ 

Wrong move Rogers.  
Tony punched him right in the jaw. 

“Don’t you fucking talk about my father!” He raised his fist again, but Steve’s reflexes were quicker and snatched Tony’s wrists out of the air. Fuelled by fury, Tony kicked and flailed and yelled, causing Steve to helplessly hold on to his wrists, trying to restrain him. 

“Tony stop! Calm down!”

“Fuck you I won’t fucking calm down! I deserve to fucking explode! I deserve to be fucking pissed!” His wrist writhes free and his fist lunges for Steve. Reacting quickly, Steve smacks the fist away but it shifts Tony’s balance, sending him falling into the bed stand. A loud thunk created by Tony’s head and the hard corner alerted both of them. The room fell silent.

“Oh my god Tony.” Steve registered his mistake right away and knelt down to check if the man is okay. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, I’m so sorry.”

The impact of Tony’s temple and the nightstand caused his vision to go white, he couldn’t quite see or feel the pain yet, but he did feel tired. His lungs burnt, gasping for air as the impact had knocked his breath out of him. His senses, with dismay, slowly creeped back. First the hot pain, then the stinging in his eyes. The shame, the pain, the itch of anger, the want to be left alone. When he could see Steve kneeling down in front of him, reaching out to him, he shrunk away. 

“Leave.”

Steve paused at those words, refraining from touching Tony but then leant forward again. 

“Tony you’re bleeding, let me help.”

His outreached hand was swatted away. 

“Just. Leave.”

“Tony-“

“Leave god dammit! Leave me! Leave! Get out!” He was in tears. Every part of his body felt like it had been torn open and scooped out. Everything hurt. His own body was betraying him in every aspect. He didn’t want to cry, he didn’t want to yell, or fight, or for Steve to leave. “Just fucking leave me the alone!” He grabbed the lamp on the nightstand and flung it at Steve. The lamp hurdled towards the wall and cracked and crunched as it collided with the drywall. Steve’s eyes were wide, but he got the message. And there Tony sat, vision blurry as he watched Steve Rogers hesitantly and painfully leave him and the shattered lamp behind. 

The sound of a closing door never hurt so much. 

—

It’s been a while since Tony has been in a bar. There are so many different feelings within a bar itself, it’s hard to describe the single, collective atmosphere. There’s the corner where a girl is buying her first drink with her friends on her twenty first birthday. The side where there are sport junkies cheering on their favorite team with some friends. The gossip table. The bachelor table. The breakup-coping table. Don’t forget about the players who saunter around buying drinks, hoping to get laid. Then there’s the loner section of the bar. Sad men and women sit here alone, taking shots of whiskey until they run out of money, pass out, or find some one to have meaningless sex with. That’s where Tony was, dousing his grief in alcohol. 

He was peering into the mirrors they had in the bar, observing the dynamics of the people behind him. Scoffing as he watched a player in a dark red leather jacket get blown off by another woman. 

Ameuter.

It reminded him of himself a couple years earlier. Minus the part with the rejection of course. Any social status-seeking man or woman was willing to bend over at the hand of Tony Stark if it meant the next day they could say they got laid by the Anthony Stark. Tony saw it as a fun deed, getting pleasure out of people who were on metaphorical leashes for him. Thinking about it now absolutely disgusts him, and if it weren’t for Steve, he probably would have lived out his entire life as a player. Steve… His eyes stung and his breath was heavy- quickly, he sipped his drink and his eyes wandered around the bar for a distraction.

He noticed the brightly colored jukebox beside the bar, peaking his interest. He finished his drink and slowly hopped off of the bar stool. As soon as his feet hit the ground, he began to feel the full effect of the whiskey. Careful as to not tangle his legs together, he cloudily made his way over to the jukebox and reached forward to grab hold of it for security. Only, his depth perception was off and he leant forward a good three feet before actually catching the jukebox. 

“Woah!”

A quarter of Tony’s drunken breath was knocked out of him as a solid branch hit his chest. Unsteadily, his arms grabbed onto the object and his legs eventually caught up. 

“Fucking gravity,” Tony murmurs to himself and cracks up, snickering at his own comment. 

“You alright there?” Tony redirects his attention to what prevented his fall. It was the player in the dark red, leather jacket. Tony squinted his eyes at the blue eyed, scruffy, blonde man. 

“8 outta 10,” Tony nodded, giving him a drunken expression of approval. The man looked at him with surprise. ‘I said that out loud... great.’ 

“Oh so that’s where we’re going with this? Well, I’m sorry to inform you that my morals are above labelling human beings with numbers so if you would kindly move out of the way, I would like to choose a song.” The man moved his arm and Tony’s source of balance was swiped from underneath him. Face first, Tony tumbled into the man’s chest. Shortly after, the man used his hands to prop Tony back up again.

“Well aren’t you a saint. And no, I was here first,” Tony declared, swaying back and forth like a rag doll in the man’s hands. 

“Really? If I weren’t here first you and the floor would have been doing the wrong kind of tango.” Tony backed away at the man’s tone of voice. It had lowered significantly into a husky yet playful swing. It was almost flirtatious but in an oddly innocent matter. 

“What would you know about the right kind of tango?” He found himself to be defensive now. A sort of mechanism he developed against foreign flirting when he was dating Steve. "I saw you getting rejected by multiple women tonight.” He managed to break contact from the man and rest himself against the corner created by the jukebox and the wall. 

“What would you know about picking ladies up?” The man crossed his arms, slightly offended. Tony scoffed.

“You have no idea.” With this, he began to propel himself to return to his seat, but the arm that previously caught him blocked his path. The man stepped in front of him.

“Alright then, let’s make a deal. If you can get a number from any girl at that table, you get to choose the song. If you fail, as you will, I get to choose the song.” His tall figure was full of confidence, leant up against the bar so gracefully. A hand out for a handshake. 

“Easy.” He realized it might take him a little extra effort to get out of the corner and stand on his own. Tony folded his arms to match the confidence stance of the man, masking his drunkenness. 

“Really?” The man knew exactly what was happening. 

“Yep.” Forcing his mind to sober up, he pushed himself up from the position and began to wobble confidently past the man. His head was spinning. The world almost turned upside down on him so he quickly grabbed the man’s shoulder, covering it up as a friendly, competitive shake. “Easy.” 

Tony honestly doesn’t remember even walking over to the table. He was on autopilot now. Smirking and winking as he leant over the table. The girls were giggling right away to see the infamous Tony Stark red, drunk and flirting. When Tony was able to get not one, but all of the women’s numbers on napkin, he smugly returned to the man who was evidently impressed. 

“Wow, I guess you do win...” The man said, a bit flustered. “Your choice, on me.” Swiftly, he gestured towards the juke box and moved out of the way, giving full access to Tony. Tony watched him pull a quarter out, holding it in between two fingers then flipping it out towards Tony. 

Tony realized that as soon as he picks up this quarter and picks a song, his interactions with this man could end. He didn’t want that, he liked having someone to joke around with for the night. 

“Y’know what, let’s compromise, we’ll pick a song that’ll fit both of our tastes. That is unless your taste is absolute shit.”

“Trust me, it isn’t,” he jumped on that right away. As if the insunuation of him having a bad taste of music was the worst possible insult. 

“Alright then, how about Guns for Hire, AC/DC?” 

“Hm, more like Space Oddity, David Bowie?” 

“I like Bowie, but I’m more in the mood for Rebel Rebel.” He cocked his head to the side, raising an eyebrow at the man.

“A good song... but how about Tommy James and the Shondells? Mirage?” The man was leaning in, completely invested in the conversation. Tony can tell that this man was serious about his music.

“A little to upbeat for my taste right now. I’m going through a trasitional period.” Tony stepped back and pressed his back against the wall. 

“Piano Man, Billy Joel?” The man responded to Tony moving away and took a step forward, arm casually leaning against the Juke Box.

“Now I don’t want to cry.” Tony liked this, it was like a fun game.

“I can go all day you know?”

“I’m counting on it.” 

“Alright, here I go. Paper Lace, Silver, The Beatles, Electric Light Orchestra-“ 

Tony’s ears perked.

“Electric Light Orchestra?”

“Yeah. Ever heard of them?”

“Of course I have Mr. Blue Sky.” Tony watched as the man’s blue eyes brighten. "How about something by them?”

“Electric Light Orchestra, coming right up sir.” His voice dropped to the low playful growl again. Tony’s breath caught in his throat. 

Tony watched as the man leant his tall figure over the jukebox, biting his lip as he flipped through the selection. His handsome, rugged face lit up when he found the song. He gave Tony a happy look. 

“Thank god it’s here or else we’ll probably be here naming bands for another hour or two. They have Do Ya, ever heard of that one?” 

“No but I’m sure it’s good."

The man smirked and selected the song. The uplifting guitar riff begins to play and the man leans against the bar, smiling at Tony. 

“And what’s wrong with naming bands, I thought it was fun,” said Tony as he tripped toward the bar and caught himself on a stool. He laughed, embarrassed.

“Really? I thought I was beginning to bore you with my charming music enthusiast self.” 

“Music enthusiast?” 

“Did you know that Jeff Lynne made up the word groos for the purpose of the song Don’t Bring Me Down?” 

Tony laughed, shaking his head down. When he looked back up he found a flustered face staring at him, almost endearingly. They shared a moment of friendly silence, listening to the song. Tony watched as the man bopped his head to the song and slowly his entire body was bouncing with the music.

“God this song is so good! C’mon- ‘Do ya do ya want my love!? Woman. Do ya do ya want my face, I need it!’” He sang and dance, directing his attention at Tony with curling fingers and winks. Tony, slightly intoxicated started bouncing too. His head gently beating to the rhythm, grinning intensely at the man’s dancing. 

‘Do ya do ya want my mind? I saying it!’

The man moved closer to him, almost dancing around Tony, his face leaning in close with the lyrics.

‘Do ya do ya want my love?’ 

Tony’s heart rate immediately picked up. He can’t do this. He can’t stand here and let this man sing to him. His heart was still Steve’s and this man is pricking at it. He can not let himself develop any sort of realistic attraction to him. So, disregarding any possible consequences, Tony brought his whiskey drenched mouth up against the singing man’s. Silencing him. 

‘I’ve never seen nothin’ like you’ 

\- 

This had to be the worst feeling in the world. It had to be. Loving someone even after you break up with them is terrible. The thing even worse than that would be if they still loved each other and the unbeatable force drives them to constantly hurt each other. There. That’s the worst feeling in the world. Hurting some one you love. The thing about this was that neither of them even tried to hurt each other. In fact, they were just trying to protect each other. Steve was just trying to prevent Tony from being even more hurt and that ended in the wrong place. 

He feels so guilty. Good intentions, but nonetheless, guilty.

The guilt and loss has been a black hole sucking in everything in the centre of Steve’s chest. Every time he thinks about Tony or the events that have transpired, the black hole sucks away his breath, making it shallow and hard to breath. His lungs feel constricted and his heart feels as if it is on it’s last strand of muscle, trying to hold on. 

“Excuse me.” 

A voice interrupted Steve’s depressed spiral. He turned his head quickly, snapping out of the sad realm he has entered to find the even sadder reality. A woman was trying to walk past him in the hallway that he was blocking.

“I’m sorry.” He murmured, embarrassed and moved to the side. She asked him something along the lines of ‘Are you ok?’ but Steve was too lost and too tired to listen. He thinks that he responded with a simple nod and grin, but who knows. Steve really didn’t care at all. 

With all the energy left in him, he hesitantly knocked on the door, unsure if he was ready for more human contact. The door swung open almost immediately, revealing Bucky and Sam. Worried and sympathetic faces worn genuinely. 

“Hey guys…” Steve smiled weakly, he was about to break. He was so tired. 

“Steve…” Sam moved out of the way to let Steve in. Taking a deep breath, he moved into the house.

“You can take my room, I’ll sleep on the couch-“ Bucky started but Steve waved him off.

“No Buck, I can sleep on the couch.” He moved slowly and sadly, reaching the couch, then he collapsed. “I just need some time alone.” The lump was forming in his throat, his mind wanted to shut down but the other half was grieving too much to let it rest. His hands started to fiddle with a loose string on the sofa. 

“You sure you don’t want anything to eat or anything…” Sam and Bucky stood at the hallway, worried for their friend. 

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Steve wanted to cry. 

“We’ll be in our rooms then.”

“Great.” 

But nothing was great. Everything hurts.

Sam and Bucky gave him pitiful smiles and receded into the hallway. Without a sound, Steve turned onto his side, facing towards the back of the couch to hide his face. He didn’t want to remember that he existed or that anything was happening at all. Maybe if he imagined hard enough he’ll think he’s asleep in bed, with Tony. But, that wasn’t going to happen. The regret of hiding the news from Tony, the regret of not being able to fix things, the regret of leaving Tony on the floor, just regret and the great family of pain it has caused slashed back and forth in Steve’s brain. 

His face was wet. The dam holding back his sobs broke and they quietly spilled out, shaking his body. 

This is absolutely the worst feeling in the world, and Steve can do nothing about it. 

-

His heart was pounding so quickly. 

Tony was sitting across from them on the balcony of his tower. Steve watched as the grown man dipped his tongue into a swirl of ice cream as if he was a child. He would do this in the middle of his sentences, swallow, then continue as if nothing had interrupted him in the first place. Tony’s skin looked like it was glowing and his eyes were as bright as the city even behind his glasses as he spoke.

“And I swear to god, you don’t want to deal with fucking business men. I’m sure you know how some of them are.” He dipped his tongue into the ice cream again, enjoying the cool treat. 

“Well, aren’t you a business man?” Steve grinned, dropping his head to the side to peak around Tony’s tinted sunglasses. Their eyes caught with a glimmer. 

“Yeah, but I’m a cute one,” Tony shrugged and shook his head back and forth as if he needed to make his point. A wide grin spread across Steve’s face and he had to look away before answering. 

“I... can’t argue with that,” he sped through the statement, turning his heated face away.

“Steve, you need to learn how to flirt goddam… Ok… Maybe not, that was oddly charming in the least charming way possible.” 

God, his heart was pounding so hard.

“Hey Tony.” Tony’s ears perked at the change of tone. Steve’s voice was still shy, but serious now. 

“Yep?” Steve glanced at him, his brown eyes were as wide as a does with hints of curiosity and worry in them.

‘My heart is going to explode.’ 

“So… You’re a super good friend to me and I really appreciate that.” Steve had no idea where he was going with this, he practiced and practiced but it’s already messed up. 

“Oh please don’t tell me you’re going to break up with me or something Steve.”

“No!” He registered it was a joke. He laughed nervously. “No…” Tony’s eyes widened even more, his head bopped to the side as if he was encouraging Steve to continue. “I… Uh… I really like you Tony and before you say any snarky remark that I’ll have to answer to I want to ask you- Well- If maybe you would like to sometime- If it is ok- go on a… Date with me or something?” 

Steve’s eyes were slanted with hope and worries as he watched Tony’s large doe eyes register the message. He watched as the corner of his mouth twitched, then, a smile. 

“You idiot, all that to ask me a simple question? Look, my ice cream is melting,” Tony ticked his tongue and lapped at the dripping lines on the cone. Steve realised the answer was still unknown, sitting there completely silent for he didn’t know if he was facing rejection or acceptance. Tony noticed the frozen man and stopped giving attention to the ice cream cone and looked at the man. “It’s a yes Steve, you can come back to earth now,” he laughed. 

And with those words, Steve’s heart bursted. He was flying at the speed of light and the brightness shone through his smile and his eyes. His entire body was beaming.

And Tony, Tony felt the exact same way. He’s just a little better at hiding it. 

-

Tony gasped. The impact of his back and the cold steel of the car knocked a breath out of his mouth. The man held Tony’s waist tightly, pulling him close as their mouths passionately twisted and glided. Their bodies were melded together in a sexual, beautiful physique that bent and clashed and curved with every move. Tony’s hands searched for a grip, roughly gliding up the leather jacket and through the man’s wavy blonde hair. The feeling of the man’s scruff left Tony numb. That, and the alcohol. 

Tony’s nerves leaped when he felt the hands on his legs, propping and pressing him up against the car, the man creating perfectly rough friction to cause small sounds to escape from Tony’s mouth. His hands gripped tightly onto the man’s broad shoulders, chasing the pleasure until the man broke away. Out of breath. 

“Wanna get into the Milano?” He gasped, referring to his car in a husky, eager voice. 

Tony nodded. His feet crunched against the floor as the man put him down and pulled the loud door open. Gently, he was guided toward the opening of the car and he fell in, back hitting the leathery cushions. The man quickly pulled off his leather jacket and threw it into the front seat, then, eagerly crawled above Tony and shut the car door. 

“10 outta 10,” the man whispered through a smile, Tony growled and yanked the man down onto him, the surprising pressure and friction making the both of them gasp. His lips and teeth found the man’s strong neck and he buried himself into kissing and biting everything he could reach. Fingers leaving red lines on the man’s back, teeth leaving purple marks on his chest and neck… 

This is wrong.

Tony can’t do this. 

Gasping, he pulled away, pushing the man away from him with wide eyes.

“Is everything ok? Did I do something?” The man asked, pulling back with concern. 

“No. No, it’s my fault. I-I’m sorry. I can’t do this,” Tony stammered, feeling pathetic. 

“Hey that’s totally cool. No problem. No pressure,” the man raised his arms, his voice transformed into a gentle and reassuring tone. Thank god he wasn’t an asshole. 

“I’m sorry I gotta go.” Tony shook his head, opening the door and began to walk away as quickly as possible. He didn’t want to turn back at all. He felt terrible. Sick to the stomach and every where else. “Fuck.” 

His brain hurt, his body hurt, his heart hurt. Tears were wetting his face as he rushed down the street, looking for his tower. His step was still weak and wobbly, and the sobs threatening to rack through his body wasn’t helping. Shakily, he grabbed the rough, concrete wall and a bit to roughly pressed his forehead against it. The tension in his shoulders broke with a sob. His body, heart, lungs and mind were all breaking and flying everywhere and this time, Steve wasn’t there to help him hold it together. Tired, his body couldn’t hold up anymore and he retracted into a small, shuddering crouch. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he whimpered through the convulsive cries, trying to catch his breath. Nothing could help him now. No amount of drunken flirting, music, making out or violence can help Tony. This was uncontrollable. “Steve I’m sorry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I apologise for typos.


End file.
